Clippers-Nuggets Gm 2

Monday night was bananas. Ok, I know some of you know that I do photography for the L.A. Scoop and consequently, cover Clippers games. I've been to about nine games this year and have a ton of pictures to show for it. Anyway, I missed Game 1 due to my housewarming but I wasn't going to miss anymore games, no matter what was going on.

The playoffs are no joke. I know what the players must feel like because even as a spectator, you can feel the energy in the air. I'm looking around me, I'm seeing Billy Crystal and Frankie Muniz (Malcolm from Malcolm in the Middle) and Jay Mohr and Penny Marshall. I'm seeing random NBA cats like Nate McMillan and Jay Williams (the ex-Duke one) and Mike Dunleavy, Jr. (that cat is TALL in person) milling around. I stand just inside the entrance. David Aldridge walks past. Kiki Vandeweghe. Doug Collins. Elgin Baylor with his fine wife. The crowd: a sea of red, not quite like a Nebraska home game circa Tommy Frazier, not quite like a Bloods convention, but getting there. And I continue to marvel that I've somehow talked my way into this gig -- and shot enough decent pictures to keep me around, but somehow, it all seems a little surreal.

 
 
Fifteen minutes till game time and I'm walking to my seat. I'm in front of the Clippers' bench, three seats in from the basket. This is prime real estate. I can't believe it.

But I have to snap out of it quick: as I'm approaching, some chubby, funny-built Newman off of Seinfeld looking cat is standing with his camera, complaining to one of the Clippers' staff. He's standing over my spot, pissed.

"The L.A. Scoop? Who the hell are they? What they doing over here? Have you heard of that paper? Who the hell gave them this spot?"

He goes on and on, failing to recognize that I'm right behind him. But I'm about my business. I step around him and take my seat. I ignore Stay Puff and begin pulling out my camera. I don't see him looking at me, but I feel him. Refrigerator's mood changes from angry to salty. He knows I heard him. He waddles up to me, all inquisitive, like, "Are you with the Scoop?"

"Yes."

"Where are you guys based?"

"South L.A."

"Are you a weekly paper or a group of papers?"

"A weekly black newspaper."

"Oh, 'cause I'd never seen you before."

"I'm usually on the other side of the basket, but I've been here."

(Scintillating story continued below.)

 
(Before and after? Just playin', Earl.)